Let the mess happen.

Let me share what the hardest part of motherhood is for me. It’s not the sleepless nights, the temper tantrums or the picky eating. It’s the mess.

I grew up in a house with “decorative towels”. You know, the kind that are hanging perfectly in the bathroom but you’re not supposed to actually touch or use them. This characteristic of things being neat, tidy and “clean” has carried into my adulthood and ultimately, into my mothering.

I’ve struggled with allowing Charlotte to feed herself because it always leads to food and crumbs all over the kitchen floor. The finger paints say “washable” but they stain the clothes and anything she may touch. The kinetic sand crumbles and leaves behind the tiniest pieces. The possibilities are endless.. and so is the cleaning!

A very dear friend of mine has walked this journey of motherhood with me. Our girls are a day apart and although she lives in Texas, we share constant texts and photos about our day-to-day. I admire her ability to just let her babies grow on their own, cultivating their creativity and allowing them to explore. She is constantly reminding me to let the mess happen.

Let the mess happen, because that’s when the memories are made.

The shaving cream on the counters and floor from when you played with it in your hands. You thought it was the funniest thing to put it on your face.

The noodles on the chair from when you looked at me with a smile and said “more s’ghetti please?”. You ate the most that night.

The toys scattered around the house from your imaginary play. Your horses are where you left them, eating pumpkin on the coffee table.

The pillows from the couch, tossed around the living room.. from the time you jumped and squealed. Climbing is your favorite.

The mashed banana all over the kitchen from when we made muffins. You love to help mommy.

All of these messes led to your sweet memories. I know you won’t remember the mess, and I’m trying not to either! But I hope we can both hold onto these memories.